Betrayals
by Shellie Williams
Summary: Just another little h/c snippet for my favorite target: McGee. One shot.


**Betrayals**

Shellie Williams

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters or places of NCIS. No money was made from this snippet.

**Summary**: Just another little h/c snippet for my favorite target: McGee. One shot.

**Author's Notes**: It seems like every time there's a vacation from school, I have a little extra time on my hands before family members start to arrive, and a story will slip into my mind and ask to be written. Well, it's that time of year again and sure enough, a little story showed up. This was written quickly and has not been beta-ed, so all typos and other grammatical errors are mine. This is dedicated to my favorite McGee writers (The Great Four!), and all the other fanfiction writers who keep us so well entertained.

*****

Music blared from wall-mounted speakers. Head bobbing to the beat, Abby moved around her lab from the computer to the mass spectrometer, back to the computer, dancing with a rhythm all her own. She took a long pull from her Caf-Pow, and then returned to the results beeping at her from the computer. Images and tiny letters on the screen doubled for a second before swimming back into focus. Abby blinked to clear her vision, then squinted and peered harder at the results.

Overhead lights dimmed. Abby looked up, and then grabbed the counter when a dizzy spell nearly sent her to the floor. "Hello? What's going on here?" Flattening both hands against the countertop, she tried to keep her balance against a suddenly swaying room.

Computer monitors blinked dark, springing to life again with McGee's face. Static crackled over an open phone line. McGee's voice spoke through the room. "Abby? Abby, I need your help. Help me, Abby."

"McGee?" Stumbling across the floor, Abby moved toward McGee's voice.

*****

At his desk, McGee's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Special Agent McGee? This is Jones. I'm Security in the downstairs garage. Just wanted to let you know your car alarm is going off, and we need you to come shut it down."

"What? Did someone--" Realizing the security guard had already hung up, McGee pressed his lips together in exasperation and thumbed the phone off. Grabbing his car keys, he headed for the elevator.

********

"McGee?"

McGee rushed at her from the dark. His grip squeezed her arms and pinched the skin. Before Abby could stop him, he pushed her against the wall and hit her. Shock froze her voice for an instant, but then pain forced a scream from her throat.

"McGee! Stop! You're hurting me!" Her arms and legs felt weighted with lead and she couldn't defend herself. A slap across the mouth split her lip. Abby tried to fight back, tried to understand why McGee would do this to her, but could do neither. She fell and curled in against the wall, trying to protect herself.

********

McGee arrived to an eerily silent garage. "Hello? Anyone here? Jones?"

Receiving no answer, he quickly located his car, but found no glaring alarm. Instead, he found some kind of security mechanism locked around one of his front wheels. Running quickly through his head, McGee tried to think of a reason why a boot would be attached to his car. He had no tickets, outstanding or otherwise. Kneeling beside his car, he attempted to figure out how to unlock it. After a minute or two of knocking his knuckles painfully against hard steel, he gave up. Nursing a scraped and slightly bloody hand, McGee headed back to the office. Maybe a few phone calls would clear up this misunderstanding.

Halfway back to the building, his phone rang. The caller ID displayed the same number that had called him about his car alarm. McGee answered quickly. "Hey – I just checked out my car and--"

"Agent McGee, you're needed urgently in Miss Sciuto's lab."

"Abby? What's—?" Again, the call disconnected before he could get any more answers. Alarmed, McGee broke into a run for Abby's lab.

********

Gibbs walked into Abby's lab. Music blared from the speakers, loud and absent of any kind of familiar rhythm. "Abby?"

A small whimper caught his attention, despite the obnoxious noise jangling through the room. Gibbs' hand went to his belt, but his fingers closed on emptiness. His gun was upstairs in his desk. He searched the room quickly, eyes roaming over counters and into corners, until he saw Abby huddled against the floor. Training kept him from yelling, but he rushed to her and spoke gently before touching her.

She turned to him. Anger boiled up as hot as lava from his belly. Mascara ran down her cheeks, marking dark tear-tracks. Blood smeared across her chin from a split and bloody lip. Instead of grabbing for him as he'd expected, Abby kept pulling at her skirt, as if trying to lengthen the material. Her striped stockings were crooked and twisted on her legs. _Take one thing at a time._ The mantra chanted through his head as Gibbs reached for his phone with one hand, and drew Abby closer to himself with the other.

He called Ducky, briefly explained the situation and gave instructions to send Tony and Ziva to the lab. Abby began whispering in his ear. He leaned closer to listen.

"McGee – why?"

_McGee!_ "Abby, did McGee hurt you?"

Abby's crying grew worse. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head against Gibbs' shoulder. "Why? Why, McGee?"

As if summoned with the thought, the younger agent suddenly rushed through the door. With no time to question Abby further, Gibbs made a split-second decision. He gently untangled from Abby and turned her away, then surged from the floor and caught McGee before he could come any closer. Shoving him back around, Gibbs forced him back through the door, through the lab, and out, without acknowledging Tony and Ziva's looks of total confusion as they passed them.

Grabbing McGee's arms and wrenching his hands together behind his back, Gibbs ignored McGee's confused sounding, "Boss?" and quickly handcuffed his wrists together. Gibbs heart squeezed in his chest as he noticed McGee's bruised and scraped knuckles. Shoving hard into his back, Gibbs forced McGee into the elevator and pushed the button to go up.

"Boss, what's going on? What's wrong with Abby? Why am I handcuffed?"

"You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

McGee remained silent as Gibbs grimly recited his rights. They arrived upstairs and Gibbs led McGee through the offices and down the hall to the holding cells.

"I don't know what's going on, Boss, but I did not hurt Abby. Is she okay?" Gibbs did not answer. "I received a phone call from someone claiming my car alarm had been tripped. I went to check it out and found a boot attached to one of my front wheels."

Wordlessly, Gibbs pushed McGee into the inner office. Desperately, McGee continued. "I tried to get it off and hurt my hand. Then I got another phone call telling me to go to Abby's lab."

The guard greeted them. Gibbs finally spoke. "Agent McGee is charged with assaulting a Federal officer. Lock him up."

"Wh--? Abby? But – wait, Boss!"

Ignoring McGee's protests, the guard pulled McGee away from Gibbs. "Special Agent Gibbs, sir. We still have Petty Officer Lyn Stevenson in holding."

Gibbs stood for a moment, eyes wide and measuring McGee. Drowning in horror, McGee stood speechless. Then, as if coming to a decision, Gibbs nodded once. "Put him in with Stevenson."

Unable to comprehend how his world had turned upside down so quickly, McGee walked numbly with the guard to the holding cell. Not until his handcuffs had been removed, and he'd been placed inside the room, did he realize who his company was: Lyn Stevenson. Gibbs and the others had arrested Stevenson for the assault and battery of two of his fellow shipmates. _Oh boy._

"Back for more questioning, Agent McGee?" Stevenson, shoulders wide, beefy arms barely contained in tight sleeves, moved closer. Uncomfortable, McGee backed up.

"Uh – yes. Yes, I had a few questions concerning your alibi."

Stevenson frowned. "My alibi? But you've already proved I was lying."

"W-well, I – I had –"

"Where's your backup?" Stevenson crowded in, planting his hand against the wall right next to McGee's head. "Don't tell me they sent you in to question me alone."

McGee glanced at the camera overhead in the opposite corner of the room. Stevenson followed his glance, and then looked back down at McGee. "How quickly can they get here, Agent McGee?"

Time froze, and then air whooshed out of McGee as he bent double over Stevenson's fist in his gut. He glanced up just in time to duck and avoid another punch heading his way. Rolling away from the wall, McGee blocked Stevenson, and then threw a fist at the man's face. It felt like he'd hit solid iron. Wincing and wondering how many knuckles he'd broken, McGee had no time to recover before pain exploded through his jaw. Hours practicing in the gym were no comparison to Stevenson's greater experience and better training. McGee's body convulsed with a hard jab to his side. The shock of how painful it felt for ribs to bend under repeated pressure erased any form of countermeasures from his mind. The brute force of Stevenson's punches held McGee helplessly against the wall. There was no time; no time to react, no time to block, no time to speak. Air was absent.

When Stevenson stopped the support was gone. McGee collapsed, arms too weak to wrap around his throbbing ribs. Pain pounded through him with each breath. An inane idea of holding his breath, holding the pain in, ran through his muddled brain, but he couldn't gain enough control to regulate it. He simply lay on the floor and made the decision to get through each second of agony.

In the inner office, the guard on duty turned the volume on his computer monitor back up from silent, a grim smile on his face.

*******

Tony entered the office at a run. Gibbs didn't glance away from the central plasma, but still acknowledged his entrance with a terse question. "Well?"

"No boot on McGee's car, boss." Tony watched Gibbs' expression harden. "But there were what appeared to be fresh scrape marks on one of the front hubcaps. I took pictures. I'll enlarge them and see what we have."

Ducky and Ziva moved closer as the surveillance recording showed them Abby in her lab. She took a drink of her Caf-Pow, and seconds later, grabbed the counter.

"Abigail appears to have experienced a dizzy spell."

"Go check it out, Ducky. That Caf-Pow was still there when I took Abby out."

Ducky left. The others continued to watch. Abby's computer monitors blinked, then McGee's face appeared on all the screens. Abby seemed confused, turning in circles. She finally chose a direction and headed that way, but a man rushed at her from another direction and attacked her. He was dressed like McGee, with McGee's size and height, but reconciling their friend with the actions of the image on the screen was proving to be nearly impossible.

After Abby fell to the floor, the man continued hitting and kicking her for a few moments. A quiet snap stole their attention from the screen. A broken pencil fell from Ziva's fingers to Gibbs' desk. She did not look at the others.

"Go back and freeze that!" Gibbs' order brought Tony's focus back to the surveillance video. He rewound it to Abby falling to the floor. A few moments later, the attacker turned and left, but just before the camera captured his face, he threw up a hand to block its view. Tony froze the image. The face was hidden, but the hand was easily seen – especially the missing fourth finger.

Gibbs' palm slammed down on his desk. Tony jumped. "It's not McGee. Dammit, I _knew_ it couldn't be him!" Turning quickly, Gibbs walked swiftly from the room. As he hurried down the hall, his phone rang. He answered. Ducky's excited voice brought welcome news.

"_I have found traces of GHB, Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, in Abigail's drink of choice, Gibbs. She was indeed drugged. I've also just received an update from the hospital: she's all right, Jethro. She's bruised and hurt, but otherwise unharmed. She was not raped."_

Gibbs came to a stop in the middle of the hall and closed his eyes in silent relief. Ducky continued.

"_However, her physical injuries are not the problem right now. The belief that Timothy attacked her has caused much more psychological trauma."_

"One problem at a time, Duck. Can you get to the hospital as soon as you're finished there?"

"_I'm on my way out the door now."_

"I'll join you shortly." He shut his phone just as he rounded the corner to the holding rooms. The guard who had greeted him earlier was still at the post and he stood quickly when he saw Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs."

"I need to take Agent McGee into custody."

"He's not here, sir."

Growing impatient, Gibbs lifted his hands in question. "Where is he?"

"I sent him to the hospital."

"What?"

Uncomfortable with Gibbs' building explosion, the guard hastened to explain. "He's under guard. Petty Officer Lyn Stevenson and Agent McGee were involved in an argument. Stevenson is fine but McGee needed medical attention."

Turning away, Gibbs reached for his phone. "Where is he?" He threw the question over his shoulder, then broke into a run when he found out McGee had been brought to the same hospital as Abby.

*****

Gibbs hurried into the Emergency Room entrance. Dr. Mallard spotted him and joined him, but ended up having to keep pace as Gibbs continued to the nurse's station.

"Timothy McGee? Where is he?"

Reacting in surprise, Ducky put his hand on Gibbs' arm. "Timothy is here? What happened?"

Gibbs listened as the nurse gave him the information.

"I put him in a holding room with someone whom he had no business being near."

"Why?" At Gibbs' icy stare, Ducky nodded. "Oh. Abigail."

"You stay here, Ducky. I need to talk to McGee alone."

Entering the examination room, Gibbs drew in a quick breath at the sight before him. Timothy lay on a gurney with his eyes closed. Dried blood splatters stamped his face with the dark evidence of Petty Officer Stevenson's abilities. Bruising along one cheek bone and across his nose spoke of more pain, and his open shirt revealed a wrapping of bandages that no doubt offered little support for cracked or broken ribs. If McGee had been guilty, the injuries wouldn't have been enough and Gibbs would have felt little satisfaction in knowing he hadn't been the one to put them there. But knowing McGee was innocent, and remembering the plea in his voice as he asked about Abby and begged Gibbs to listen, thrust the knife of guilt deeper into Gibbs' gut. The pain was so real he almost looked down to see if a knife hilt rested against his belly.

Refraining from touching McGee, afraid he would startle him into rolling off his perch, Gibbs quietly called to him. "McGee. Open your eyes."

Eyelids blinked. Confusion drew his brows together, then McGee realized with a start who had entered the room. With a burst of adrenaline, he struggled to sit up. Hampered by his injuries and a temporary cast encasing his left wrist, McGee strained to reach out to Gibbs.

"Boss, you've got to listen to me. I did not hurt Abby. Please tell me she's okay."

Alarmed, Gibbs moved closer and caught McGee, forcing him gently back to the gurney. "Stay still, McGee. I'm listening."

"I – I don't know what's going on, but I swear to you I'd rather cut off my own hand than hurt Abby."

"I know, McGee." Waiting for McGee to realize he was listening, Gibbs gripped his arms for a moment longer.

"Did you check the surveillance tapes?"

"Yes, we saw them. But even before that my gut told me that you couldn't – I should have listened to my gut, McGee." Gibbs drew closer. McGee had nowhere to go. He pressed back into the lightly padded gurney, always intimidated by his boss. With the events of the past few hours, he really wasn't sure if Gibbs was about to hit him, or help him. "I should have known you could never hurt Abby, McGee." A moment of silence passed. Hospital noises drifted away and a small circle of quiet encompassed round them. "I should not have put you in that room with Stevenson. It's my fault you're hurt."

McGee blinked. "You believe me?"

"Yes, I do." Gibbs watched McGee's eyes close. Telltale signs of moisture gathered beneath his eyelashes. He drew back and let McGee breathe, let him regain his composure.

McGee opened his eyes. "How's Abby? What can I do to help?"

"She's going to be okay. And you can stay here and rest – the team's got this one."

Relief was quickly replaced by anger. McGee's struggles to sit up renewed. He grunted, but made it upright. "The hell I am! Someone's hurt Abby and made her believe it's me – I need to do something about that, Boss." He reached for the IV line taped to his hand and began pulling it out.

Gibbs moved in quickly and stopped him. "McGee, wait!"

Breaths coming in quick gasps through his chest, McGee stopped struggling and stared at Gibbs.

"Give us twenty-four hours, that's all I'm asking." Before McGee could protest, Gibbs hurried on. "Give yourself that long to heal and for us to work, then you can join us. I promise."

Reluctantly, beginning to feel the pain of his injuries through all of his struggles, McGee dejectedly sank back against the gurney. "Twenty-four hours?"

"Twenty-four."

"And then you'll let me help?"

"Yes, then you're back on the team."

A doctor walked in. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Mr. McGee, we need to admit you so we can monitor you through the night."

Gibbs stepped back. "Is he okay?"

After glancing once at McGee to see if he had his permission, the doctor answered Gibbs. "Yes, he'll be fine. His nose is broken, his right ulna has a hairline fracture, and the four lower ribs on his left side are slightly cracked. The deep bruising on his abdomen will be sore, but no internal bleeding showed up in the scans."

Gibbs nodded. "McGee. Twenty-four hours, and then I'll see you back at the office."

McGee gave a thumbs up. Gibbs left. As he walked through, looking for Ducky, his phone rang. "Gibbs."

Ducky answered. _"Abigail and I have returned to NCIS. I've explained to her the evidence we have supporting McGee and proving his innocence."_

Gibbs left the hospital and quickly made it to his car. "Was Abby cleared to leave, Duck?"

"_Her formidable determination could not be denied, Jethro. She's angry someone tricked her into believing a friend would hurt her."_

"I know how she feels. I'll see you at the lab in a few minutes." Alone with his thoughts, Gibbs replayed McGee's claims of innocence over and over in his head. This was a mistake he did not intend to repeat.

*****

Gibbs stood just behind Abby as she stood staring at her computer. Tony and Ziva waited patiently a short distance away.

Hair back in pig tails, new lab coat over her clothes, you wouldn't have known Abby had been crying and bleeding on the floor less than twelve hours ago. Unless you looked at her face: determination and a slight edge of anger made the bruising around one eye and along the corner of her mouth seem even more intense. She stared at the computer screens as if willing them to give her the answers she wanted.

"He didn't touch the computers."

Gibbs shook his head. "No. We watched the surveillance video, Abbs. Right after you started getting dizzy he came in, and left as soon as you were incapacitated."

Abby walked away. "If he wanted something in the lab, he could have just called and told me you wanted something, like calling McGee to tell him his car alarm was going off to get him in the garage."

Tony took a step toward them. "But he didn't. His intention wasn't to get you _out_ of the lab – it was to make you think McGee was attacking you."

Abby turned back around to face the others. "But his intention _was_ to get McGee out of the building, so he wouldn't have an alibi for the time he was accused of attacking me."

"And he knew your weakness, Gibbs." Ziva didn't move and returned Gibbs' stare when he turned to look at her. "He knew how protective you are of Abby --"

"I'm protective of all my team."

"—and how you would react if she were attacked."

"She's right, Gibbs." Abby joined them. "The one thing that would make you go after McGee is if he hurt me."

Tony snorted. "Hell, Boss, I'm surprised you didn't work him over, yourself."

"Me too." Abby's eyes widened as pieces of a puzzle fell together in her mind. "That means --"

Gibbs interrupted. "You weren't the target --"

Abby finished the thought. "McGee is!"

Gibbs pulled out his phone while ordering Tony and Ziva to head for the car. The hospital receptionist answered on the first ring. Tony and Ziva listened to the one-sided conversation as they kept pace with Gibbs.

"I need Timothy McGee's room, please." Gibbs' expression grew dark. "When?" He hung up and dialed another number. After a moment or two he closed his phone and hurried out of the elevator, across the room, and through the door toward the cars. "McGee's been discharged from the hospital. He left for home nearly thirty minutes ago. He's not answering his phone. We need to be at his apartment -- _now_." They lost no time in exiting the parking lot.

*****

Darkness refused to dissipate when McGee flipped the light switch just inside the front door of his apartment. Irritated, he entered the room, trying to remember where he kept the emergency candles and the number for the electric company.

Halfway across the room a heavy force tackled him. Unprepared, McGee hit the floor hard. A ragged cry gushed out of his mouth when fractured ribs reacted painfully to the rough treatment. Someone grappled with him. McGee fought back as best he could, but it was clear his attacker had the upper hand. Hindered by his temporary cast and recent injuries, McGee weakened quickly under the assault. He lay panting against the floor when his attacker released him and stood.

Light from the hallway fell in a long rectangle through the open door. The man twisted, pulled a gun from where he'd tucked it behind his back, and aimed it unerringly at McGee.

McGee squinted in disbelief. "Watson? We thought you were dead! Your car went over the ravine and burst into flames; no body was recovered. All the charges were dropped."

A low chuckle rumbled through the room. "Guess you were wrong. I could have gotten away, McGee, but I just had to come back and wipe that smug grin off your face. No one should have been able to figure out my encryption code – No one! Least of all not some pudgy, pale-faced NCIS agent who thinks he knows computers."

Gunfire blasted through the room. McGee waited for pain to hit, but instead, he watched as Watson convulsed and fell to the floor. Gibbs stood in McGee's doorway, his gun smoking. Relief welled up inside of McGee, but strength left him and he slumped to his back.

Gibbs knelt beside him. "Are you all right, McGee?"

Eyes closed, McGee nodded. "I'm good, Boss. Ribs hurt, but I think I'm okay."

"Tony, help me get him to the bed." Between the two of them, they managed to help McGee off the floor and stagger to his bed. Gibbs checked for any pulled stitches or new wounds that needed bandaging. Other than being a little out of breath, McGee seemed relatively fine. Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva out to take care of Watson, while he went for a glass of water and a couple of pain pills for McGee.

Gibbs hated filling empty space with words. His team knew him well enough to read him, most of the time. But what he'd done to McGee was inexcusable. He'd used the system to exact his own form of revenge from time to time. In his mind, the end always justified the means. He'd deliberately put McGee in that room with Stevenson because he knew Stevenson would take advantage of the situation and extract a little revenge of his own. The absolute and deep-blooded anger that had washed over him when he'd seen Abby hurt seemed to change the pathways in his brain. He'd gone from in control, to irrational and insane with needing to hurt someone. And he'd hurt McGee.

Gibbs stepped over the corpse in the living room, half listening as Tony talked to Ducky over the phone, calling him to the scene, and weaving around Ziva as she began taking pictures with the camera she'd retrieved from the car. He entered McGee's bedroom, struck by the similarity of McGee's position on the bed with his position on the gurney when Gibbs had first seen him in the Emergency Room. He had only one option here.

Quietly, he touched McGee's arm. When Tim opened his eyes, Gibbs offered him the water and pills. Tim sat up and gratefully accepted both. Gibbs waited until he'd swallowed.

"I owe you an apology, McGee."

McGee didn't seem surprised. He put his glass on a nearby table and leaned back against his pillows. Waiting. Maybe he had learned something from Gibbs, after all.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "I should have listened to you and examined the evidence before jumping to conclusions." He didn't try to make it easier on himself. He didn't stand up and pace the room, or study the rug underfoot. He kept his eyes on McGee's and didn't try to suppress the enormous bubble of guilt rising up inside of him. The bruises on McGee's face, the injured ribs and hurt wrist – those were all his fault as if he'd used his own fists on McGee's body. For an instant the culmination of McGee's injuries and the memory of his pleas for Gibbs to listen rushed together as a spear through Gibbs' chest. He drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry, McGee."

McGee looked down at his hands, then back at Gibbs. "A wise man once told me that it's a sign of weakness to apologize."

One corner of Gibbs' mouth tweaked in a weak grin. "Maybe that man wasn't as wise as he thought."

"We've all been betrayed here, Boss. But let's not lose sight of who did the betraying – Watson. It's his fault I'm hurt and Abby's – hurt. It's his fault you did what you did."

Gibbs nodded, accepting his absolution. He stood up and gripped McGee's shoulder, squeezing once, then letting go, and left the room.

*****

Abby stood gently swaying at her computer, running tests and checking results. Quiet, soothing jazz wove through the room from the speakers. The door slid open and Abby turned to find McGee standing there. She tucked her arms around herself and didn't move to greet him. The knowledge that McGee hadn't hurt her vied with her memories of the attack. Everything had been so confusing. The drugs in her system had conspired with the voice that had called to her through the lab, and she had been so absolutely certain that it was McGee who had been hitting her, kicking her, touching her.

Gibbs had told her McGee had been hurt, but she was a little unprepared for the amount of bruising on his face.

He wouldn't look at her, but stepped closer. Almost without thought, she pressed back harder against the counter. He must have seen her reaction. Grief layered his face with sadness and the slump in his shoulders grew even more pronounced. "I'll go. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am that this happened to you, Abby. I would never --"

She couldn't help it. McGee reminded her so many times of a little puppy. She reached beyond her memories, shoved them to the side, and boldly wrapped her arms around McGee. He bowed his head on her shoulder and placed his hands lightly on her sides. Abby waited to see what would happen. No horrible flashback, no feeling of revulsion at Tim's touch, no brain freak out. That didn't mean it might happen later, but for now, she felt comfortable in Tim's arms. Sighing, she turned her head and laid it on his shoulder. Forgiveness tasted so sweet.

THE END


End file.
